Christmas is For Lovers
by twriter12
Summary: Part of the Richonne Writing Network 2018 Holiday Series, this story follows Rick and Michonne as they spend a secluded love-filled Christmas vacation in Wyoming. It is a look forward in the reader prompt project CAPITOL AFFAIRS.
1. Chapter 1

_Part 1 of 2_

* * *

Michonne found it hard to look away from Rick, her eyes slowly and methodically took in the sight of him in his gray sweater, legs crossed, glasses on his face as he read something in a black leather portfolio. She was a State Department officer and her phone often rang after "work hours" so she understood the unpredictability of his career. When your boyfriend was an adviser to the President of the United States, there was no such thing as off duty. But this Christmas, after a long and successful re-election campaign that saw him crisscross the country countless times with the president, he promised her an unforgettable Christmas vacation. Together.

This was a new step in their relationship - their first time together on Christmas Day. There were numerous milestones in their relationship the past six months, like meeting his best friend, who happened to be the leader of the free world. Rick insisted she attend a small holiday gathering at the White House with the First Family and a few friends. When the president said he heard so much about her, she took it for what it usually was — nice small talk. But when he asked about her father's health — she went back home for a few days when he was hospitalized — she knew she had been a topic of discussion between him and the president. That was intimidating. The three years they were together meant nothing, her mother said, the introduction to the president and his family was everything and meant she should prepare for an engagement ring.

Her mother wasn't the only person to whisper the idea of marriage. So did her friends, entertainment shows, magazines, and Vegas. She reminded her mother and friends this wasn't Rick's longest relationship and he had never been engaged. Rick had been a professional bachelor but her friends reminded her Amal locked down George Clooney. But it had been three amazing years. Better than any relationship she ever experienced. She knew though things were good with her ex-fiance, it could be better. There was more to love than what she had with Anthony and she didn't want to miss her chance to experience it by settling down with him, a good person, just not the right one for her. She found that something special you couldn't explain, only feel, in Rick. Those cliche butterflies she laughed about were real and fluttered every time she saw him for the first time. He still wanted to be with her as much as possible and introduced her to everyone he remotely knew when they were out. America and Britain's most eligible bachelor was off the market, which somehow made him more attractive to women, even more so than the rotating bevy of long-legged actresses, models, and socialites from his past.

She was still staring when the pilot notified them over the intercom they'd be landing in ten minutes.

Rick looked over at her. "I'm almost finished. I promise this won't happen again," he said as he lifted the portfolio. "I have a few surprises up my sleeve."

She appreciated that while she never complained about his unconventional work schedule, he always acknowledged it and apologized, never taking her understanding for granted. They rarely discussed past relationships, but she had the feeling he dealt with a few less than sympathetic partners who either didn't grasp or didn't care about his responsibilities. Rick wasn't a salesman or an advertising executive. He was expected to give the president analysis on major affairs from terrorism to the economy. Sometimes that meant canceling plans at the last minute or pausing the on-demand movie to take a phone call. He was more than worth it.

She gave him a gentle smile. "I know." Besides, she had a few distractions of her own to ensure his eyes were on her the majority of this vacation.

She looked out the window of the plane not believing this was her life. She knew Rick was wealthy and generous. The gifts, his Georgetown home, a quick weekend getaway to the Caribbean here and there, but he never showcased it like he did this time - the private plane was something she could quickly get used to.

They were met on the tarmac by a black Chevy Tahoe complete with a driver who dressed like it was cool instead of freezing, probably lived here all his life. The drive from the airport which usually took thirty minutes, was just under an hour thanks to a recent snowstorm. The two-lane road snaked around the snow-capped mountains that seemed to reach beyond the sky. The ride was in silence; spellbound by the sights before her. She could feel him watching her as she took it in. She lived the concrete jungle life since graduating from college. She forgot the beauty of wide open space for as far as the eye could see. Living in the D.C. area was like living in a constant construction zone. Developers couldn't see a spot of green without wanting to build something.

It was dusk when they pulled under the porte-cochere of what had to be the most beautiful home she'd ever seen.

"We're here, darling," Rick said. He kissed her temple.

"I'm awake," she said, lifting her head off his shoulder.

The lights were on, both outside and inside the home, and there was a golden hue to the home that made it appear warm despite the thick snow and strong gusts of wind. Thanks to an abundance of windows, she could already see inside.

"Is someone here?" She asked.

"No."

"It's beautiful," Michonne said as Rick held her hand and assisted her out of the SUV. "But you said a cabin. This is a mansion," she said as she looked over at him.

"Technically, I guess so."

"What do you mean by technically?"

"Well, it's about 9,000 square feet. So, sure, I guess it's a mansion, but it feels like a home. It's cozy."

She laughed at a cozy 9,000 square feet. She never knew Wyoming could be so lavish and of all the places he talked about he never mentioned anything so pastoral. She knew about his place in London, the home in Lake Como, and the beach house in Malibu. "Wait. Is this your home?"

"No. It's the home of a friend."

She wondered what she would have been in store for if he took her to Switzerland or Prague like he wanted. His paternal grandfather was an earl or lord or something, they probably would have stayed in the family castle. She wouldn't be surprised if they had one.

"I thought about getting a place here. Still a possibility. We'll see how this week goes."

What did that mean? If she liked it he'd buy a place here? Her opinion mattered regarding his real estate ventures? The thought made her mind race. Would he propose Christmas Eve? She had questions but before she could ask he did something on his phone, then pointed toward the door. "It's unlocked. Go inside. We'll get the bags."

From the moment she entered the home she was captivated. The first thing she noticed was the smell - a warm spicy scent. Maybe vanilla and cinnamon with a touch of amber. She inhaled and her happiness increased tenfold. The house was spacious and appeared to be an open floor plan from the little she saw from just beyond the foyer. The only thing she didn't like as she walked further into the home was that it had a lot of wood. There was thick wood bordering around the windows, large exposed wooden support beams from ceiling to floor between the dining room and living room and wooden beams on the ceiling. She wasn't thrilled about the monstrous wooden antler chandelier either.

She climbed the winding stairs made of solid wood and stood on the open walkway that looked down on the bottom floor. Just as she was about to head toward the bedrooms Rick called out to her.

"Michonne?"

"Coming down."

Their luggage was near the door but he was nowhere in sight.

"Where are you?" She called out.

"Back here," he said.

She found him in the grand living room with its double height ceiling. "Wow," she said. She couldn't over it. The floor to ceiling four by three grid windows created its own kind of accent wall. The back wall was almost the same except the lower level had two glass doors in the center that led to the backyard.

"It's a great house, right?" Rick asked.

"It is." She loved the house though the decorating left a lot to be desired. She already thought of numerous ways to change it while maintaining the rugged motif. "This is a big place for two people." She wrapped her arms around his neck.

"It has everything you need," he said as he placed his hands on her hips.

She could see the lustful look in his eyes and wasn't ready to start something she wouldn't be comfortable finishing. "Right now I need a shower." It was a long day. Not wanting to waste any time, he arranged for a car service to pick her up from the office and take her directly to the airport so they could wake up on the first day of their vacation already settled and ready to enjoy each other.

He didn't move, in fact he tightened his grip on her as he pulled her closer.

"What is it?" She asked.

"I want to stand here and look at you. Is that okay?"

When other men looked at her the way Rick looked at that moment she felt objectified, sometimes even fetishized **.** With Rick, she felt loved and cherished. That's how he made her feel on any day and she didn't have to be anything other than herself.

"What I feel for you and what we have, I know is the truest love there is." He ran his thumb over her bottom lip and instinctively she licked her lips, grazing the tip of his thumb with her tongue. She rocked from foot to foot, for a moment she thought he might build up to a proposal but that wasn't Rick. It wouldn't be after they traveled, unsettled and tired. His proposal would be one of those moments he would recount in some interview that would make women swoon then reconsider their significant others.

He leaned down and kissed her, gently at first and what she thought would be a quick kiss developed into something fervent. Once he slipped his tongue into her mouth, she became dizzy and her head fell back too far and she lost her balance. He held her tighter.

"Have your shower," he said. "I'll make dinner."

The shower was something she didn't know existed. Not only could it fit six or seven people, it was a full body experience. There was a square rainfall shower head and six massaging body jets coming out of the wall. Already guilty of way too many thirty-minute showers, she could stay in here forever. Then there was the bench. As her hands slid over her soapy body, she dreamed of the things she and Rick could do in there together.

She found him in the kitchen. His sweater was off, he was in a thin T-shirt and his pants, barefoot. The fireplace was lit and the soft sound of jazz played.

"You're walking around barefoot on marble floors?" She asked.

He looked over his shoulder and laughed when he looked down at her feet. "Take off your socks."

She frowned and joined him at the counter as he plated a chicken Caesar salad. "I have cold feet," she said.

He laughed. "I know."

"You don't like my socks?" She looked down at her feet - she could admit the thick gray thermal socks didn't do much for her satin and silk slip and robe. She removed her socks and felt the instant warmth. "Of course."

He smiled. "Radiant heating system." He put a piece of chicken to her mouth and she took it barely getting it in her mouth before he kissed her.

"Good," she said as she chewed.

"Hmm, I agree," he said, kissing along the corner of her mouth and her jawline.

Three years later and he still made her happy with the smallest of gestures. She loved his kisses. Never chaste. Whether quick or lingering they were always passionate.

With the chef's knife in his hand he pointed to a bottle of wine. "Help yourself. My friend has excellent taste in wine."

She took a sip. "I like."

"Chile."

She didn't know all that much about wine, just what she liked but she picked up a few things here and there from Rick. "Central Valley?"

"Very good."

They took the bottle of wine and their salads and sat in front of the fireplace in the living room next to the kitchen, opting to snuggle on the couch instead of sitting at the massive oak dining room table. There was a huge bare Christmas tree with boxes of ornaments next to it.

"That tree must be at least twelve feet. Is it for us?" Her eyes wide as she leaned forward.

"It is. I know how much you love Christmas decorations."

Each year they went to a few of the Christmas lights displays around D.C. like ZooLights at the National Zoo and Festival of Lights at the Washington D.C. Temple. And they always went to see the tree at Rockefeller Center.

"I do." She moved closer to him and fed him a bite of her salad.

* * *

Exhausted from a long day and two bottles of wine, they fell into bed and forgot to close the window blinds before they fell asleep so the next morning, sunlight spread across Michonne's face and woke her. Rick's arm was draped over waist and he was dead to the world. She smiled, he was so alert and observant when awake, but when he was asleep sometimes she thought the room could fall down around him and he wouldn't stir. Hard to believe this man hit the gym then was dressed and in the West Wing by seven each morning. It was pure discipline, because though he wanted to be, he was not, by nature, a morning person.

She took a moment to stare at him. A few gray hairs in his five o'clock shadow. He was usually clean-shaven like the president. She enjoyed seeing him on vacation because he was so relaxed. She reached out and ran her finger over the stubble, taking in the long eyelashes and the pink lips she wanted to kiss. She'd studied his face many times, and she never got enough of staring at him, especially like this, when he was at peace.

She dressed and headed downstairs to make a pot of coffee but the machine looked like something designed by NASA so she figured it was best to not touch it. Instead, she walked outside. "Shit," she muttered. It took all of ten seconds for her to change her mind. "Nope." This was a different cold than D.C. Maybe it was that middle America, heartland wind. Whatever it was, it was too much for her so she went back inside and stood in front of the door.

With the backyard view, it made sense that much of the back of the home was windows, lower and upper level. The bedroom windows were the only ones with blinds. They were surrounded by open space and she couldn't see another home in an eye's distance. All she saw were mountains.

While she stared at the view, Rick joined the living. She could tell by the smell of coffee. Then she heard him coming her way but kept her focus on the view outside. He stood behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and kissed the top of her head.

"You can't see it under all that snow, but we're just above the 7th fairway of an amazing golf course. And that," he said as he pointed, "That's Jackson Valley and Snake River. We must come back in the summer. You can see elk and bison on the river and bald eagles perch on the treetops that swoop down to catch fish. I would love to watch you SUPping."

"What's that?"

"Stand-up Paddling." He squeezed her tighter. "This place is like nothing you've ever seen. It'll make any city dweller want to turn in their briefcase for a pair of cowboy boots."

There was something about him extolling the virtues of prairie life with that British accent and expensive cashmere half-zip pullover sweater. What she loved most about Rick was he couldn't be categorized. He was unabashedly himself in what he loved and what he did. He could be seen front row of an MMA match and each year websites published his books of the year list. Her favorite iteration of him was going to Home Depot and helping repair her back deck then that night making a traditional Sunday roast.

"I bet you'd look good in a pair of cowboy boots," she said.

"I happen to think the same about you," he said as he swatted her butt. "Come on, you can help me make breakfast."

One thing she knew for sure was that he didn't want her help in the kitchen, at least not in a meaningful way. He tasked her with getting things out of the fridge or pantry, at most measuring things. She remained in her spot, still looking out at the mountains. "How often do you come here?"

"I used to come once a year. A group of us."

"Like a guy's trip?"

"Yes."

"Why did you guys stop coming?"

"They didn't."

She turned in his arms. "I've never heard you talk about it. Did you stop coming when we started dating?" Her hands were playing in his hair at the back of his head.

He shrugged. "Among other reasons."

"Why?" She still took her annual trip with her two best girlfriends. This year, it was Greece. They already decided next year would be Peru. Her friends accepted she spent less time with them, they loved Rick as much as she did, but the annual trip was a must, no opting out, not even for super sexy men. "You should keep coming. You seem to like it."

"We'll see," he said as he pulled her toward the kitchen.

She sat at the counter and watched Rick work his magic in the kitchen. He moved effortlessly. Like a pro. Like an artist. The way he cracked eggs, whipped things, turned things. Never in a rush, never too late. When he finished one task, it was magically time for the next. It was more than cooking; he had a flair. Her mother appreciated that he cleaned as he went along so by the time the food was ready there was barely evidence he had used the kitchen.

"Do you know _why_ I love to cook?" He asked as he grabbed a plastic spatula.

"No."

"Cooking is a love language." He looked up at her. "You cook for the ones you love."

She smiled. "You usually do all the cooking. So what does that say about us?" She leaned on the counter.

"That I don't like the...um, blackening cooking technique."

"Is that code for burnt?"

"Nope." But he smiled and continued to focus on the eggs which he cooked like risotto with constant stirring and alternating off and on the heat.

He nearly dumped her on the spot when she cooked scrambled eggs one morning. She thought them simple enough - crack the eggs, salt and pepper then whisk and pour into a hot skillet - but he said she cooked them too fast, too long and basically all wrong. The only thing she got right was cracking the eggs before putting them in the skillet. His were gourmet scrambled eggs complete with chopped chives.

"What are we doing today?" She asked as they sat at the counter. He made the best eggs she ever had, even better than the ones at Seasons back home.

He took a sip of coffee from a handleless coffee mug, holding it near the brim. She loved the way he squinted when he sipped something hot or a stiff drink. Somehow it looked sexy or maybe she was head over heels.

"Thought we'd go into town."

There was no driver this time as they drove into town. He held her hand as he drove. She couldn't get over a farming report on the radio. The roads were cleared making for a smooth ride. She looked out the window; it was a winter wonderland. She could see the allure, living in a place like this and wouldn't mind coming back during the summer with all the outdoor activities.

They drove past Teton Village which looked like Santa's Village times ten with buses dropping off fashionable visitors ready to hit the slopes. They kept driving until they arrived at Jackson Town Square where everyone looked like real people. Everything seemed to move at a snail's pace. No rushing. No bad attitudes. People window-shopping and posing for pictures in front of the massive Christmas tree.

"We're here," he said and led her into a boot shop.

"What are we doing here?"

"I wasn't kidding. I think you'd look great in a pair of boots."

There were boots all around. She instantly loved the place never thing she would like the smell of rawhide. Her eyes followed Rick as he walked to the other side of the store. A woman's face lit up when she saw him and she wrapped him in a big hug. They talked for a little while and looked over in Michonne's direction. She turned away and ran her hand over a pair of boots. When she looked back, the woman nodded and headed to the backroom.

"Is the reason you stopped coming was because of what happened when the boys came here?" She asked when he joined her.

He looked away, out the window at the mountain range then gave her a look that said she was right.

"Rick," the woman said from behind as she joined them. "Harry will be right out." She turned to Michonne. "Harry will take good care of you and your feet."

"Bonnie, this is my girlfriend, Michonne. And this is Bonnie. Her family has made custom boots in Jackson since 1883."

"My husband's family. I married into the business." She smiled. "A vegetarian from Berkeley living in San Francisco when I met my husband. Now I'm a meat-eating, ranch girl."

"That's quite a change," Michonne said.

Bonnie shrugged. "For love, it was the easiest change I ever had to make. You remember why you're doing it and it's all worth it." She looked over at a customer waving to get her attention. "Excuse me. Harry will be with you soon."

"After this I'll take you for the best hot chocolate you've ever had." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "The secret is the whiskey. Only one or you'll be out like a light."

He wrapped his arms around her and sang _I'll Be Home For Christmas_ along with Elvis Presley playing over the shop speakers. She had no plans of too much sleep, but the whiskey would help set the mood.

* * *

 ** _To be continued..._**


	2. Chapter 2

_Part 2 of 2_

* * *

She wasn't sure what Rick's plans were for the day but they did little more than shop. After getting fit for her cowboy boots, she left with a cowboy hat, a diamond and sapphire pendant of the Tetons, and things she never heard of like a few jars of Chokecherry preserves, buffalo jerky, and huckleberry fudge. She never considered Wyoming an art hub but there was an extraordinary number of galleries and her favorite was the Diehl Gallery with its holiday exhibition despite the curator being Rick's former exclusive Jackson Hole hookup. She knew it from the woman's expression and Rick's discomfort. Once they left Michonne asked, he admitted it, and they didn't speak on it any further.

That evening they sat at opposite ends of the large sunken bathtub next to a 10-foot grid window with another amazing view. The lavender-infused bubble bath, dim lighting, and Rick massaging the arch of her foot was heaven. Her moans echoed through the bathroom. Her eyes were closed, but she knew there was a smirk on his face. He loved how vocal he could make her.

"Hey, you're not falling asleep on me are you?" He applied more pressure to her foot followed by a kiss on her arch.

"No." She was, a little, and that wasn't good because she had special plans for tonight. She crawled over and lay on top of him, placing soft kisses on his lips. Before he could deepen their kiss, she moved to his neck because his deep kisses undid her and they wouldn't make it out of this tub without at least one orgasm each. He liked when she applied a little pressure on his neck as she kissed it, just as she liked when he did it to her. His hand landed on her back, tickling her skin with his soft touch. She was already sensitive to his touch and the water from his hand tickled as it ran over her back. She pulled away when his hand slid between her legs, her lips barely touching his. "Give me ten minutes and then come find me downstairs."

"What?"

"It's a surprise." She climbed out of tub making a show of patting her skin with a plush white towel. With her back to him, she bent over just a tad for the desired effect and she got it when she heard Rick groan.

She was so excited she was ready in less than five minutes but she felt as if she'd been waiting for twenty minutes. The anticipation was killing her, and she was tempted to run upstairs to see what was taking so long but that would ruin the surprise. Finally, she saw him — shirtless with his pajama pants hanging low on his slender hips — before he saw her. She was lying back on her elbows on the white fur rug in the living room. She lit candles around the room but the real light came from the fireplace. When he finally saw her, she knew he was happy.

"Like my outfit?" She asked.

She wasn't usually into sexualizing holiday costumes and she wasn't sure if she was Mrs. Claus or one of Santa's helpers, but whatever she was even she knew she was sexy in the velvet red bikini top tied between her breasts trimmed with faux white fur and the tiny red skirt with fur on the hem.

He sat down next to her and traced over the swell of her breasts with his finger and then her bare midsection; he smiled, as he watched her squirm at the feel of his touch. When they first became intimate, even before having sex, he studied her. He didn't just kiss and touch her. There was a purpose — her pleasure and his knowledge. What made her moan, beg, become breathless. And just as important, what she didn't like. That was the joy of dating a mature man and she wished she had done it earlier in life.

His hand cupped the side of her face and she leaned into his hand until he cradled it and kissed her neck. "Are you my surprise?"

She found it difficult to speak with his tongue swirling on the flesh just below her ear. Involuntarily, she arched her back and tossed her head back and to the side, the pleasure of his mouth on any part of her was always instantaneous. He placed his hand on her chest and pushed her until she was flat on her back.

"I love the way you taste," he moaned against her skin making her shiver. "And it will only get better." He traced his finger along her hip bone and under her skirt.

He kissed from her neck down the center of her chest and along the waist of her skirt, sometimes running across the flesh just above the material with his tongue. Slowly, agonizingly so, he kissed and licked back up her torso, kissing up between her breasts and then the swell of each. Meanwhile, his hand touched her inner thigh, and she opened her legs wider hoping he was ready to fuck her even though she loved the slow torture.

Rick wasn't much for a quick fuck up against a wall unless she spent all day or night torturing him when he couldn't do anything about it. It's not that he always loved slow; he loved anticipation to the point of making her crazy.

He turned her over on her stomach and she felt a rush. It always excited her when she couldn't see him and didn't know what he was about to do. She still had dreams about that time he blindfolded her and tied her hands to the headboard. That night seemed to go on forever. She snapped back to the present when he ran his hands up and down her body from her shoulders down to her ankles. His touches alternated between the light touches of his fingertips to deep massage. She lifted her ass in the air when she felt him tug at her skirt. He was slow about it, so slow the material sliding over her body tickled her skin.

"Fuck," he whispered.

She smiled, looking over her shoulder as he admired her ass in a red lace thong. Until he met her, he didn't know he was an ass man. She laughed as he palmed her ass and gave it a few squeezes. He nibbled his way down her spine causing a desire to surge through every inch of her body. He kissed her ass and licked the crease of her butt cheeks, but when he bit down on her ass, she couldn't pretend she wasn't desperate for more.

"Please," she groaned.

"Let's get rid of these," he said as he pulled off her thong. He directed her onto her knees and he kissed down the backs of her thighs as she stared at the dancing flames in the fireplace waiting for more, wondering what was next. His hands ran over her slowly, aimlessly as if he had nothing but time. He ran a finger over her pussy, never inserting it, just rubbing her wetness along her pussy lips. The anticipation. There was a tingle the second he used his fingers to spread apart her pussy and when she felt his tongue — slow, wet, and warm — she jumped. She could feel his face pressed against her ass and she wasn't sure which of them moaned louder. Her body had a mind of its own as it rocked back against his face hoping for more of whatever she could get.

"Spread your legs wider," he said.

She did and when she looked down, he was lying on his back with his head between her knees looking up at her as he ran his tongue over his lips. She lowered herself on his face and was met his tongue. She gripped the rug as he gave her pussy one long lick and then another and another. She could feel the changes in his tongue from pointed to flat, licking up and down, swirling around. And when his mouth closed around her clit and sucked she screamed. She could feel his smile. He loved making her come undone by his tongue.

There had to be hundreds of nerve endings in the ass and he had all of hers on overdrive when he slapped her ass while he licked her pussy. She almost lost her balance when his tongue swirled around her clit. He did it all. He sucked, licked, fast and slow. She lowered herself onto her elbows, lowering herself more, and rocked her hips back and forth fucking his face. It was steady at first and then her movement became so frantic that her ass clapped. But she didn't want to cum just yet, so she slowed down.

He was so good at this she had to lean forward to get away from his mouth, needing a reprieve from the intensity. He knew she was close so when she lowered herself onto his face again his arms wrapped around her like a vice and held her in place. She braced herself for what would happen next. Her legs cramped from how tense her body was. It was a non-stop, rapid assault on her clit. She squirmed and screamed as the pressure built up. Then she lost the battle and came.

She attempted to dismount his face gracefully but her body was weak and she collapsed on the floor but not before kneeing him in the head. They both laughed, and she reached out and rubbed the side of his face. "Sorry."

She felt the wetness around his mouth and it excited her knowing it was her. She pushed her hair out of her face, delirious as she watched him get rid of his pajama bottoms. She reached for him, wanting to reciprocate, but he positioned himself between her legs and smoothly slid inside her. She barely had time to register what was happening. Her eyes rolled, and she choked on pleasure. They both remained still for a moment enjoying the sensation of him inside her.

"Right there," he moaned. "This is where I want to be."

He lifted her leg and pulled out then slid back in then he pulled out and rubbed his dick up and down her pussy looking into her eyes as they listened to her wetness. The feel of him inside her was familiar but also exciting like the first time all at once. He moved slowly and stare into her eyes but still made her feel like she was being fucked. It took her breath away how slow and intentional each stroke was. How he focused on her every verbal and physical reaction. He leaned down and kissed her and she could taste herself on his lips and his tongue when she sucked it. Their moans disappeared into the other's mouth.

He broke their kiss. "Take that off," he said as he fucked her.

It was then she realized her Santa bikini top was still on. She didn't take it off because she didn't want to interrupt their groove so she untied it and exposed her breasts. His eyes zeroed in on them bouncing.

"Perfect," he groaned.

"My breasts?" She massaged them, rubbing her thumbs over her hardened nipples.

"All of you," he stroked a little deeper for emphasis but his eyes were on her breasts. "Fuck."

He kept her off balance, fucking her slow and then fast, long strokes, quick and hard, pulling out to rub his dick against her clit then sliding back in. The magic was that he never did it too quick as to make it anticlimactic and frustrating. It all felt amazing.

Then he fucked her fast and hard, the pace frantic like he was about to explode but he didn't. Her breathing was unsteady and her eyes were half closed and crossed. Her walls clenched firmly around him and she could tell he noticed the difference. She watched as he bit his lip, closed his eyes, and turned his head to the side — the telltale sign it took a maximum effort for him to not cum.

He buried his face in her neck. "You don't play fair," he said with a shake of his head as he pulled out and squeezed his dick.

"And neither do you," she said with a pout. "I was almost there."

"I know, but that's not how you wanted it," he said.

"It's not," she said breathlessly, inhaling the pungent smell of sex heavy in the air.

He focused on her nipples with languid licks and then grabbed them both, squeezing one as he sucked on the nipple of the other. He bit down on her nipple and immediately blew cool air on it. The alternating feeling of pain and pleasure was erotic. Then her pussy became his focus once again as he slid two fingers inside her, fucking her with them while he licked her clit. She pressed her feet against the floor and rocked herself back and forth onto his hand. She wasn't sure which was better; when he licked her clit or when he moaned while he sucked it sending vibrations through her entire body. Sounds came out of her mouth she'd never heard and if she didn't know better she'd think she was in pain by the sounds she created.

She knew her reactions only encouraged him, making him want to do more, and so he did until she could take no more. She gripped his hair and her body twisted and turned until she was on her side with his face trapped between her thighs as she came on his mouth.

"I want to be on top," she said. Her voice raspy from the screaming.

Once he was on his back she didn't hesitate in climbing on him and sliding down his dick, causing aftershocks as he filled her. His hands slid up her body and played with her breasts. She started out slow, rocking back and forth, admiring the look of ecstasy on his face. She hoped she gave him as much pleasure as he gave her.

She couldn't feel him deep enough even though he filled her up. She wanted more. She always wanted more of him. She took his hands and leaned forward, pinning them above his head and rode him faster, grinding back and forth, her lower body doing all the work. And while she knew he was enjoying himself, at the moment she was all about herself. And every bit of pain and numbness, even the raw skin on her knees and the pain her mind had yet to register was worth it.

"Fuck," he groaned.

There was something about hearing those words come out of his mouth, knowing how he fucked her when the world saw the charming man whose best friend was the president and who ran in the same social circle as the royal family.

She sat up and grabbed his face with one of her hands and ran her thumb over his lips. "Such a bad word from such a proper mouth," she whispered.

"You're fucking amazing," he moaned. He placed his hands on her hips. She could feel his fingernails dig into her skin as he pulled her onto his dick.

His neck and his chest were red, his skin radiated heat like a furnace. They both had a sheen of sweat on their skin visible by the fire. Her inner thighs were slick with her wetness. He licked his thumb, and she bit down on her lip knowing what he was about to do and when he rubbed her clit it didn't take long before she threw her head back and came, but she denied him, returning the favor of when he didn't let her finish earlier. Slowly, she dismounted him and slid down.

As soon as she closed her mouth around him in inhaled sharply and the muscles in his stomach tightened. He groaned as he looked down at her pushing her hair back so he could watch himself disappear in her mouth before using her hair to guide her head. He loved that she didn't hesitate to take him in her mouth, to taste herself on him. When she moaned, he jerked up causing all of him in her mouth. When he hit the back of her throat her eyes watered. She pulled back and licked her lips as she stroked him with her hand.

"Sorry."

"I'll take it as a compliment."

She stroked the base of his dick while sucking just the head. Her forefinger and thumb acting as an extension of her mouth, both moving in unison leaving no part of him untouched; she wanted every inch of him to feel good. She rotated her hand and her head constantly sucking; he groaned and cursed and hit the floor with his fist.

She reached the part of his shaft just beneath the head and licked it for a few seconds before moving to the top, gently sucking the head.

"Wow," he moaned over and over.

She had to admit in the past, she half-assed oral sex, found it to be a chore because the men expected it at a certain time - before sex but after they went down on her for thirty seconds - it was like they fucked by numbers. But with Rick, she worshiped every inch of him and couldn't wait to feel and taste him in her mouth. It was his responsive he was. How much he loved it and didn't hesitate to tell her.

"I'm gonna cum," he croaked out as he gripped each side of her face.

She pulled him out of her mouth a line of spit from her mouth to his dick glistened. "That's the plan." She slid him back in her mouth but no longer had control as he held her head still as he took over and fucked her mouth.

"Oh my god," he moaned, moving faster and faster in her mouth. His eyes were closed, and he was lost to the world.

He came in her mouth and she continued to slide his dick in and out of her mouth, coating him with his own cum. His eyes were wide as he watched her clean him, sucking and licking all while holding his stare. She moved up his body, kissing and licking along the way, and placed a kiss on his lips before settling into his arms.

* * *

She grabbed her cell phone from the nightstand and struggled to read the time. It was almost ten in the morning. She vaguely remembered Rick carrying her upstairs the night before then visions of all they did played in her head and she couldn't contain the devilish smile on her lips. It was quite the night yet par for the course. Sex with Rick was always amazing. She rolled over onto her back to see Rick on his back stirring awake as he ran his hand over his torso pushing the sheet down giving her a view she'd always admire.

"Good morning," she said.

"Good morning." He immediately grabbed one of her breasts.

She watched as he zeroed in and took it in his mouth. He moaned as he sucked then flicked her nipple with his tongue. Her eyes closed and she ran her hand through his hair, scratching his scalp and enjoying all the sensations he elicited with his tongue, his teeth, and his beard.

He climbed on top of her and she could feel his erection. It would have been so easy to let him slide inside her but she knew them and a little was never enough not to mention she could still feel the effects of the sex they had hours ago. He wasn't kidding around last night, and neither was she.

"No, no, no." She pushed him away and climbed out of bed before he could convince her to stay. "We're not staying in bed."

"We're on vacation. We're supposed to stay in bed all day."

She laughed. "That is not vacation."

"Well, what would you like to do? Hit the slopes?"

"My legs can't handle skiing today."

"We can take that fancy camera of yours to the national park. You can capture the beauty of a Teton winter."

"Sounds like a plan." She spotted his gift for her wrapped in fancy gold paper sitting next to his luggage. She enjoyed wrapping paper with snowmen and Santa. "I can't wait to see what you got me for Christmas."

He groaned, rolling his eyes as he climbed out of bed and followed her to the bathroom. "I had a great gift but then you came up with this ridiculous idea."

She wanted to remember the spirit of Christmas and implemented a $10 gift limit. Besides, there was no way she could keep up with him. Their first Christmas he bought her a scarf that, in an uncouth moment of curiosity she googled and discovered cost about the same as her mortgage. Last Christmas it was a pair of diamond stud earrings.

"I could make the argument coming here is a breach of our agreement."

"This is a friend's home, and it's for both of us. It cost nothing."

They climbed in the shower and Rick stood under the showerhead with a smile on his face and his shoulders relaxed. He stepped forward and pulled her against him.

She brushed his hair back. "It's wonderful here." She wrapped her arms around his neck.

"You like it or is this the sex talking?" He smirked.

She noticed the scratch marks and bite marks on his skin and traced her finger along them. This wasn't the first time she did this. He never complained. He loved them, wore them like a gold star for a job well done. "Your sex-inducing stupor doesn't last that long."

"Sure," he said as he kissed on her neck. "Like you don't want it right now."

It was rare when she didn't want it. Even with a headache, she wouldn't turn down feeling his face between her thighs. She smiled. "To answer your question, I love it here. Maybe you can reconsider getting a place here."

He pulled back. "Real estate. That's quite a commitment. Would you accompany me on the trips back here?"

"Absolutely." She placed her hand on his cheek.

"Year after year after year?" He spoke softly, staring into her eyes.

Under the guise of a vacation home, their conversation shifted to something more serious, and they both knew it. They were more vulnerable and exposed because of their honesty rather than their nudity.

"For as long as you'll have me."

"Forever sounds good," he said.

When he kissed her forehead, she closed her eyes and held him tight. As tight as she could. She saw her future, and it was everything she wanted in life and more than she imagined. And she wasn't afraid. Not of him asking. Not of what it would mean for her life. Not of their relationship failing.

* * *

That evening they transformed the house; there were decorations everywhere. The banister was decorated with a garland and lights wrapped around the beams. They decorated the rooms downstairs out with red ribbons, pine cones, and poinsettias. The kitchen island had a white stand with white candles surrounded by berry garland.

The soulful voice of Leon Bridges filled the air as they prepared dinner. She loved that music was a part of both their lives and there was a song associated with all the beautiful memories they made together. He hovered and gave painfully detailed instructions, but Rick let her prepare the roasted chicken. She held her wineglass as she took a peek in the oven to check on the chicken. She swayed to _Beyond_ as she turned around and nearly dropped her glass before placing it on the countertop.

She looked down at Rick on one knee with an open ring box showcasing a sparkling diamond ring. "Yes."

He laughed. "I didn't ask yet."

She waved her hand frantically as if telling him to hurry.

"I thought about asking you to marry me in Paris, London, the Seychelles but our love isn't about grand gestures. I wanted you to know, simple and quiet with nothing but each other, that's what makes me want forever. May I have you forever? Will you marry me?"

Her trembling hand lay over her heart as the tears ran down her cheeks. He was right. No over the top dramatic plan could top this moment.

"Darling, this is when you say yes."

"Yes."

He could barely stand before she rushed him, throwing her arms around him, muttering yes over and over. Her grip was strong, but he was able to pull away to slide the ring on her finger. He watched her as she stared at it on her finger.

"It's perfect," she whispered.

"You're perfect," he replied, kissing her forehead.


End file.
